


Passed Down From Your Dad

by orphan_account



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Backstory, Crime, Elves, Gen, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Sportarobbie will happen but it's a long way off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Rottens have been making trouble in LazyTown for generations. Whenever a new Rotten hurts people, a hero is summoned to defeat them. This is the story of the conflict between Glanni and Nine, and how this conflict impacted their two sons, Robbie and Sportacus.





	1. Chapter 1

One hot spring evening a group of strangers arrived in LazyTown. They were all crammed into one dingy black car, a man and a boy in the front, three other men packed into the back. It was late enough for their arrival to go unnoticed, because people here generally went to bed early. The car went straight through the town and to a plot of land on its outskirts, stopping at the beginning of a long and twisting driveway. The man got out of the car—he was tall and thin, dressed in gaudy, bright clothes, with a top hat and gloves. The boy was dressed brightly as well, but didn’t wear his clothes with as much flair, and walked with a hunched, sulking posture. The man gave an order to the three other men and they began pulling things out of the trunk. When they were done they hurried after the other two, staggering slightly under their loads—it looked like much more than could possibly fit in that tiny trunk.

The long driveway was in disrepair, covered with bumps and holes, and occasionally the man would make a noise of annoyance and kick at the road. As if it were made of rubber, the road vibrated at the impact and settled into a smoother shape. The boy tried to do the same and only received a stubbed toe.

At the end of the road was a mansion, with shattered windows that someone had patchily boarded up. Parts of it didn’t quite match up, as if it had been continually added to and none of the architects could agree on which style to go with. Along one wall vines were making a claim. The man, Glanni, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gestured along the length of the building.

“This, Robbie, is your birthright.”

Robbie wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t want it.”

Glanni laughed.

“Fair enough. We’ll see if you change your mind after it’s fixed up.”

Robbie peered skeptically through the gloom. On both of the double doors there was an R, each meant to be a reflection of the other, but one was now hanging on by a single nail and was upside down.

“Looks like too much work to me. Are you going to use magic?”

Glanni winked at him and turned to his lackeys, who had just caught up.

“Is that everything?”

They nodded.

“You can just set it all down here for now. Start tearing away the boards and the vines.”

“What about me?” asked Robbie.

“You can sit on that crate right there and”—Glanni fished around in his pockets—”eat this lollipop.”

Robbie took the lollipop and sat down. It was bright red, cherry flavored—not, he thought, the high-end variety of candy. Years of having random sweets handed to him by Glanni had given him strong opinions about this sort of thing. He ate it anyway, though, and watched the goons attack the house with crowbars and hammers. Glanni kept up a rotating circuit of interchangeable meaty thugs, so Robbie never bothered to learn their names.

At the other end of the house Glanni was working on the windows. Under his care new windows were forming, soap-bubble thin at first and then thickening. A faint dusting of sparkles covered everything that he worked on. The paint was changing too, becoming a dark, dusty shade of pink.

When he was done with the lollipop Robbie got bored and went around to the other side of the house, which Glanni was a long way from reaching. He brushed the peeling paint, trying to copy Glanni’s effortless, casual movements. Nothing happened. He turned away, sighing.

“ _I_ wouldn’t paint a house pink.”

As if in response there was a crackling noise, and he looked back. The paint was flattening out, the cracks filling in—but now it was plum-colored.

“Dad, look!”

Robbie twitched with impatience as he waited. He didn’t want to look away, in case it stopped. When Glanni saw the spreading puddle of purple he gave Robbie a smile of approval.

“Looks like you’re getting the hang of it now. See, I knew that moving here would be good for us. However”—he held up a finger and the purple stopped spreading—”this is my house, and I want it to be pink.”

A ripple spread through the paint and it became pink. Robbie huffed and crossed his arms.

“When it’s your house you can paint it whatever color you want. We’ll make your room purple, okay?”

Robbie nodded, still pouting a little.

* * *

The next morning the people of LazyTown woke to the sound of hacking and sawing in the distance. Those living nearest to the mansion peered up the driveway, looking at the activity around the house. When a small crowd had gathered they got up the courage to walk up the driveway and see what was going on.

A section of the outer wall had caved in, and this was what the men were repairing. Glanni was sitting in a chair in front of the house and supervising the construction, occasionally offering magical assistance to speed things up. Robbie sat next to him in an identical chair, eating a chocolate bar. Glanni, who had been keeping an eye on the growing crowd, rose to meet them.

“What can I do for you, neighbors?” he quickly scanned the group and picked out a young man in a yellow suit. “You there! Are you the mayor?”

The young man was encouraged toward the front.

“Why—yes. Recently elected, in fact. How did you know?”

“You have a very mayoral look about you,” Glanni said, tapping his nose.

The mayor’s chest puffed out at this, and he stood a little straighter. Glanni did not point out that he was wearing the prominent mayoral sash.

“We’re wondering,” said the mayor, sounding a bit apologetic now. “If your last name is Rotten. Because the Rottens were the previous owners of this house, and we don’t welcome them in LazyTown anymore.”

Glanni waved a hand.

“No, my name is Rikki Riki,” he paused. “I think, though, that the man I bought the deed from was related to the Rottens. Distant cousin, a dozen times removed or something. I have no idea who they are.”

“Can I see the deed?”

“Of course.”

Glanni pulled the piece of paper out of his jacket and handed it to him. The mayor looked it over, muttering to himself, and nodded in a way that indicated to Glanni that he actually had zero knowledge of legalese.

“Looks good to me. Welcome to the town, Mr. Riki.”

“Thank you,” said Glanni, and shook the mayor’s offered hand so vigorously that it left him winded. “Now, I have to get back work. You can all come back and have a look when we’re finished.”

When they were down the road his smile dropped and he sank back into his chair, scowling.

“Why did I say that? Remind me to build a wall when we’re done with this. I don’t need anyone poking around.”

“Don’t you mean a fence, boss?”

“No. A wall. A heavy stone one.”

They exchanged glances, grimacing.

“Get to it! Do you want to sleep in the car again?”

They worked a little faster after that.

* * *

By nightfall all that remained was the interior. Glanni danced through the rooms, and everywhere he went furniture reassembled, lights flickered on, and dust and cobwebs disappeared. Robbie trailed behind him, adding his own little touches, fixing anything that Glanni missed. He was amazed; he had never seen Glanni do so much magic in one day. There was something about this house that made it easier. It was almost as if the house was fixing itself, and they were only encouraging it to do so.

In the long hallway in the middle of the house there were portraits of past Rottens, which Glanni restored. Spots disappeared, tears in the canvases mended. Many wore disguises or had different names (Rottenbeard, Rottenstein, Rottenford), but the large chin always gave them away. Glanni listed their professions as they went along. There were pirates and wizards, arsonists and murderers, mad scientists and masterminds. Glanni paused at the last portrait, a photograph in black and white. A frowning woman held a skull in one hand and a beaker in the other, her posture stiff and straight, her chin lifted proudly. She wore a lab coat and her dark hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun.

“Your grandmother. She died before you were born; some hero pushed her into a vat of her own acid.”

They gazed at the picture for a few moments in respectful silence. Glanni cleared his throat and turned away.

“She was a stuffy old woman. You wouldn’t have liked her.”

When they were finished they went to the parlor in the front, where the goons were waiting with their luggage, and Glanni collapsed onto the couch. Robbie sat next to him.

“If I do one more bit of magic I’m going to drop.”

He waved at one of the men.

“Bring my drinks cabinet. It’s in a leather case, the small brown one.”

The container folded out to reveal an assortment of liquids. Glanni took out a jar of molasses and poured some into two cups, one for him and one for Robbie. After a few sips Glanni looked much more alert, and Robbie felt the same thing happen to him, even though he hadn’t realized that the magic was draining him. He peered at the other vials while he drank. Glanni, noticing his curiosity, handed him the case.

“Don’t open anything.”

The liquids were anything from neon pink to mud brown, and were divided into sections with labels like “sedatives” or “poisons.” He pulled out a blue vial and shook it to watch the suspended flecks of glittery material swirl around. Glanni spread a map out on the table in front of him and the goons gathered around to look, so Robbie took the case to another part of the room, to be out of the way.

“To begin with,” Glanni said, setting aside his cup. “We need to think about the elf problem. If we make any sudden moves, if we do anything too threatening, the elves might notice. And then it’s all over.”

One of the goons leaned forward.

“From the way you’ve talked before, it seems like the elves are going to come whatever we do.”

“Yeah, but we can buy some time, build some strength before they show up. And to do that, we’re going to need to get cozy with the people around here.”

The goons exchanged glances. They were hitters and heavy lifters; “cozy” did not fit anywhere on their resumes.

“Just mingle in the bars, is all I’m asking.”

They nodded. This was more familiar territory. Glanni searched the map.

“Okay, there’s only one bar, but you know what I mean. The point I’m trying to make here is that we’ll be taking things slow, so you may as well get settled in. You won’t be seeing any action for a while.”

“But we’re still getting paid?”

“Oh, yes. We’ll be set for a while. You remember the errand I went on before we stopped here?”

Glanni had gotten up and was looking through one of his bags.

“Yeah? What about it?”

He took out a stack of cash and held it in front of their faces, flicking through the bills; they were all hundreds. Their eyes followed the stack, shining with an unprecedented luster. Glanni smiled smugly.

“My inheritance.”

He dropped the money back in the bag and glanced at Robbie, who had put the box of drinks away and was starting to nod off.

“We can talk about the rest of my plan when the time comes. Go unpack your stuff.”

They left with what little luggage they had taken for themselves. Glanni went over to Robbie and prodded his arm.

“You too. Go pick a room.”

Robbie sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“What you said about the elves...is one really going to come here?”

“I’m going to play it smart and not do anything rash enough to attract their attention. Don’t even worry about it.”

Robbie yawned.

“Okay.”

Glanni went one way down the hall, and Robbie went the other. He wanted the bedroom at the back corner of the house, the one nearest to the side exit. Years of traveling with Glanni had taught him the usefulness of this.

The bed was already made up with pillows and blankets, which smelled musty even after their magic. They hadn’t chased out all the vermin either—there was a mouse hole in one wall and silverfish squirmed along the carpet. It was better than their last home, though. Robbie stomped on the silverfish, listened at the mouse hole (silent), and shook out the blankets. Before climbing into bed he took out the candy hoard in his suitcase and stuffed it under the mattress. Satisfied that that was safe, he curled up under the blankets, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: mild cursing, alcohol use.

It was a few days before Robbie found the largest room in the house, the basement. He was poking around the backyard, which had a broken well, a woodshed, and a completely collapsed stable that Glanni didn’t seem inclined to fix. What he had mistook for a sewer cover was actually the entrance to a tunnel with a rickety iron ladder. He went down it carefully, feeling each rung to make sure it wasn’t broken. 

Everything in the basement was covered in a heavy layer of dust except for one corner, where Glanni had got a few machines up and running. Robbie looked them over but couldn’t tell what they were for. They were all connected, and at one end was a funnel to feed things into, and at the other was a conveyor belt that rolled out whatever the machine made. On the belt Robbie found a bucket of some sickly sweet smelling substance. He ate enough candy to rot the teeth of a child that wasn’t of dubious human heritage, and even he recoiled from this. Under the sweetness there was a confusing hint of boiled cabbage.

When he tried to wander into the other parts of the basement he was stopped by fits of sneezing and gave up. He really didn’t want to clean everything, but it looked like no one else was going to, so eventually he tracked down some cleaning supplies and hauled them down there. He cleaned it piece by piece, examining everything that he uncovered before moving on to the next bit.

It seemed that each Rotten had used the basement for a different purpose, and each new owner of the house had shoved the things of the last owner deeper into the basement, so that the deeper you went the older and dirtier things became.

His grandmother had used the place as a laboratory. In her section he found pickled jars of strange creatures, notebooks full of data in shorthand that he couldn’t read, and a few mysterious inventions that he intended to test out later. There was even a vat of some long-dried liquid. His stomach squirmed when he thought of his grandmother dissolving in acid, but there was no way to know if this was the vat that had done it.

Another ancestor had collected gold and gems, necklaces and crowns and coins from all over. In another section he found magic tomes and crystal balls. A broomstick was propped up on a wall near these, but when he tried to get it to go it did nothing but shed some bristles. Kicked away from all the rest were stuffed dead animals, pelts, skeletons...when he realized that he was holding a severed hand he dropped it and, taking a hint from the other ancestors, didn’t clean this pile.

His favorite collection was one located roughly in the middle—costumes, racks and racks of them. Someone had lovingly strewn that area with cedar blocks and mothballs, but even that hadn’t prevented the little holes and tears that accumulated with time. Most of the racks were crammed with clothes, but he noticed a few gaps in the hangers and footsteps in the dust. Glanni must have been poking through here too.

Most of the clothes were for adults, but there was one rack with smaller clothing. He found some outfits that weren’t too badly damaged and took them down. After some more hunting he found an antique sewing table, fitted with a sewing machine and little drawers along the sides that contained thread, fabric, and other odds and ends. There was no cord to plug in that he could see, only a pedal below the table that was attached to a wheel. He had no idea how to use it, but apparently his more modern ancestors hadn’t had any interest in sewing, so he would have to learn.

When Glanni walked into the basement he found Robbie sitting at a chair in front of the table, frowning at an old manual.

“Learning how to sew?”

“Trying,” Robbie said. He wasn’t good at reading and the moldy smell of the old pages was giving him a headache.

Glanni pulled a dress off of one of the racks and held it out to Robbie. The back of it had been torn almost all the way down.

“Can you fix this?”

“Why don’t you just use magic?”

“The thing with the house was special. I don’t like using magic unless I have to and it’s something I know I’m good at.”

“Whatever.”

Glanni sighed and put the dress back.

“I’m taking care of some business down here. You can practice sewing when I’m done.”

Robbie glanced at Glanni’s corner of the room.

“I’ll stay away from you machines. They smell gross.”

“Okay. Good.”

After a while Robbie gave up on the book and decided that he would just have to figure things out by trial and error. On the other side of the basement Glanni’s machine glowed and smoked, and as he worked Robbie could hear him banging on it and cursing to himself.

* * *

Every day he looked down the road at the town (Glanni had scrapped the wall idea), wondering what was out there, but it wasn’t until his candy started running low that he decided to go.

He was used to living in grimy, run-down places, so this town was bizarre to him. There had to be some catch, people couldn’t live like this without strings attached. Glanni had taken him to live in nice places before, when some of his get-rich schemes worked out, but they had never lived there for long. Glanni always either got caught by the police or got reckless when using his new money to carry out a new crime.

He got money from Glanni and bought his candy, then decided to look around. The buildings were odd, built mostly of curves instead of straight lines, and everything was brightly colored. The whole place had a whimsical, cheerful look, but he wasn’t fooled. It was all clearly a front.

At an ice cream stand he got a waffle cone with three perfectly proportioned balls of chocolate, vanilla, and mint. When the ice cream man gave him a smile he returned it, out of respect. Obviously he was dealing with a master artisan here, even if the perfection was suspicious.

On the way back he passed a playground with a low wall around it. He watched as a group of kids spun around and around on the merry-go-round, clutching the bars and laughing. Some of them leaned out over the ground as they spun, and Robbie was sure that they would fall to the ground and crash, but they hung on with confidence, planting their feet just right. Once it reached maximum velocity one of the kids actually did jump, and the other kids shrieked. Robbie tensed, sure that he was about to witness some horrific accident, wondering if he should run away. But the girl stumbled to a halt, still upright and grinning, and Robbie realized that there was a note of delight in the other children's outrage. He frowned in confusion.

Eventually the spinning came to a halt and the kids tottered off of it. Some rallied around the brave girl and followed her to the swing set. Others set off toward the colossal structure in the middle, with many slides and bars and ropes to climb. One kid came around to Robbie’s side of the playground and looked him over.

“You’re Robbie, right? Do you want to play with us?”

Robbie narrowed his eyes. How did these people know his name already? The goons must have been talking about him.

“I’m busy.”

The kid looked around, as if searching for whatever it was that Robbie was busy with. Then he shrugged.

“Okay. See you around!”

He ran back to the playground and Robbie lost sight of him in a tunnel. A few other kids looked at him curiously but didn’t try to talk with him, seeing the first kid’s lack of success. Robbie ducked down behind the wall and finished his ice cream, listening to the happy sounds of their play. When he was done he took one last peek, telling himself that he was uninterested, not afraid, and walked back home.

* * *

Glanni won the townspeople over easily. It was put out by his men that he was a rich businessman who had left the big city to retire early. He let himself be seen about the town, he was courteous to everyone he talked to, and was just condescending enough to make people believe in his status.

In public the condescension was graceful. In private, not so much.

“Damn clueless hicks,” he said one evening, walking into the parlor and flinging off his jacket. Their happy-go-lucky attitude was getting to him too.

Robbie was curled up in a chair in the corner, flicking through a comic book. He looked up at Glanni’s cursing, saw him brooding on the couch, and then went back to the book. When he was feeling paternal Glanni made an effort to not curse in front of him, but usually he seemed to forget that he was a child.

After a few minutes of silence he looked up again. Glanni was scowling at the unlit fireplace, his chin in his hand and his fingers tapping on the arm of the sofa. Bored, bored, bored. Robbie went back to his book. Usually this was the point at which Glanni did something reckless, and then the cops would come, and then they would either run to a new city or Glanni would go to jail. Robbie considered all of this to be completely beyond his control. He just kept a ready bag of essentials and hoped for the best.

He had thought that this situation would be different, maybe, but he wasn’t willing to bet on it until he had proof. Glanni stood up and put the jacket on again.

“I’m going out,” he said, even though he had just come back.

Robbie nodded, turning a page, not looking up. When he did look up Glanni was gone. Out the window he saw that it was sunset and Glanni was going back down the road, swinging his cane. Robbie knew that the goons would be out of the house at this time, too. He got up and went to the kitchen, knowing that he could always at least reliably find a piece of bread for dinner.

He was at the dining room table eating a fluffernutter sandwich when Glanni walked in with the mayor in tow. Glanni had taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, and was laughing at something the mayor had said. In his hand was an unopened bottle of wine. The mayor was looking around the house, wide-eyed at the scale of everything. He kept smoothing out his jacket nervously. Robbie looked at Glanni’s body language, did the math, and moved back his chair to stand up.

“No need to leave, Robbie,” said Glanni. “Have you met my son, Mayor Meanswell?”

“I don’t believe that I have. How do you do, Robbie?”

Robbie sat back down, glaring at Glanni.

“I’m fine.”

“We can just sit at the bar. I know it’s informal, but you don’t mind being informal with me, do you mayor?”

Robbie rolled his eyes. Glanni’s remark seemed to distress the mayor for some reason.

“N-no, not at all. We’re very casual here in LazyTown! Ha ha.”

Robbie ate the last few bites of his sandwich and went out of the room, but stood listening outside for a few minutes. It quickly became obvious to him that Glanni was fighting a losing game. His flirting was hitting the mark but the mayor was so anxious that it seemed he would bolt at any second.

He walked away an hour later, embarrassed and slightly drunk. Glanni watched him go from the parlor window, combing his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Everyone in this town is so dense!”

He laughed suddenly, startling Robbie. It was loud and a little unsteady.

“This might be too easy.”

* * *

Glanni began spending more and more time in the basement. There were certain packages that he had brought to town, unopened until now, that he hauled down there and dumped into the machine. From his place at the sewing table Robbie couldn’t see what he was doing, but he could smell it, and hear the clanging and grinding of the machine. After a few days of this he moved his sewing practice upstairs.

In LazyTown, spoiled vegetables appeared in people’s gardens. Just a few at first, not enough to attract much attention. One or two people ate them and got sick, and everyone thought that it was just a fluke. Then five people. Then ten. Soon over half the town was sick, and no one could find any vegetable that wasn’t black and rotting, and when they tried to plant new ones these went bad as well.

And then there was Rikki Riki, who was healthy and safe in his mansion outside of town. This was because he could afford to order food from far away, they thought. It occurred to them that maybe he was so rich that he could afford to feed them as well, or help the people out with their medical bills.

They sent the mayor to ask. Whenever he saw him now Glanni looked briefly annoyed, but covered it quickly.

“What can I do for you, mayor?”

“It’s the sickness. We need your help, please.”

“Actually, I’ve been working on that.”

The mayor’s face lit up.

“You have?”

“Yes. Follow me.”

The mayor followed Glanni to his office, where on the desk there were a dozen unlabeled cans. They sat down on opposite sides of the desk.

“I analyzed the fungus that’s been causing this disease, and I think that I’ve come up with something that will cure it.”

Glanni popped the lid off of one of the cans and let the mayor have a look. It was a thick dark green liquid that had a slightly unpleasant smell.

“Cabbages,” said the mayor automatically.

Glanni looked at the ceiling and sighed.

“I couldn’t get the flavor quite right, but that’s not important. It works. I’m selling them for one dollar per can, and each can contains enough doses to cure one person. Do you think everyone would be willing to try it?”

The mayor swirled the liquid around in the can.

“That sounds like a bargain to me. Are you sure?”

Glanni smiled.

“Anything for my neighbors. I have more than enough money to spend on this,” he paused. “I’m also able to produce food for the town until this fungus goes away, but to do that I’m going to need workers. There’s a whole town to feed, and me and my men can only do so much.”

The mayor didn’t seem so sure about this second proposition.

“People can’t just leave their jobs.”

Glanni nodded sympathetically.

“I know, but they don’t want to starve or move to a new place, do they? It’ll be a community effort. I know that you’re all pretty close here, so I’m sure that everyone will be happy to help each other.”

The mayor still wasn’t sold.

“I’ll ask around and see what they think about it.”

“That’s fair. Now, I’m going to deliver these cans.”

Glanni got his henchmen to load the cans onto carts, and they pushed them down the road with Glanni and the mayor following. They stopped in the middle of town and people gathered around them, looking at their wares curiously.

“Mr. Riki thinks that he’s found a way to cure the illness,” said the mayor, glancing at Glanni. “Can you explain how the medicine works?”

“You take one spoonful a day until you’re better. This stuff will clean you right out. Antioxidants, gets rid of the chemicals from the fungus.”

Someone from the crowd took one of the cans and examined the blank metal.

“I don’t see any nutrition information.”

“Look at the bottom.”

They squinted at the tiny font.

“It says ‘all natural ingredients.’”

“There you have it.”

A few more people took cans. There was muttering in the crowd. Glanni had underestimated them; they were more skeptical than he had thought they would be.

“And,” he added. “Each can is only one dollar. Think about the bill on the last prescription you had filled.”

This clinched it. Soon they were forming a line and handing over their money.

“I don’t understand how we’re going to turn a profit from this,” one of his men said on the way back. Glanni was counting the bills as he walked behind them.

“Once they trust me about this, they’ll trust me about anything else I sell them. That’s where we’ll get them.”

* * *

When Robbie next went down to the town for his candy refill it was a changed place. The ice cream man looked exhausted and gave Robbie his food wordlessly, and there were only a few children on the playground, sitting on the swings and halfheartedly kicking at the sand. They didn’t acknowledge him when he sat at the end of the slide near the swing set.

“Why aren’t you playing?” he said after a minute, disturbed by their silence.

“We’re still sick,” the closest kid said, looking up at him with dull eyes. “Hey, why aren’t you sick?”

“I don’t eat vegetables.”

The kid frowned at him, sure that Robbie was pulling their leg, but when it became clear that he wasn’t they laughed.

“You’re weird.”

“At least I’m not sick.”

The kid stuck out their tongue at him and went back to kicking the sand. Robbie grasped for something else to say.

“Maybe you should try not eating vegetables too.”

This received a snort.

“Like my parents would let me do that,” suddenly they scowled at Robbie. “Why isn’t your dad’s medicine working yet?”

“Give it a few more days. It has to work.”

“It _has_ to work?”

Robbie bit his tongue. What he had actually been thinking was “this has to work because if it doesn’t my dad can’t take your money.”

“I meant it _will_ work.”

“If you say so.”

The other kids had been watching their conversation. When Robbie left they all stared after him, and something in their eyes felt accusatory, as if this was somehow also his fault. In the coming weeks, even after they were cured, he wouldn’t be able to shake the feeling that they expected something more of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read so far!


End file.
